Father Ruthvere was waiting for them; he opened the door to the Chapel just enough to let them inside, and shut it again quickly.
"They've been here looking for you," he told Nightingale, "They have warrants for you and T'fyrr both."
His thin face was creased with worry and exhaustion, and her heart sank. Warrants? Already? How could they have gotten legal warrants past the King?
"A warrant for T'fyrr?" she said incredulously. "But he's in the King's household, how could they get a warrant out on him?"
"It's part of the original warrant for the men who attacked the Deliambren," the Priest told them, his mouth twisting into a grimace as he led them into the sanctuary. "The King already signed it; they've altered it to read 'humans or nonhumans' and they're claiming that T'fyrr set up the attack in the first place_that the Deliambren Envoy recognized him, and that was why he kept asking for T'fyrr."
When T'fyrr made a growl of disgust, Nightingale only shrugged fatalistically. It figures. I shouldn't have been so surprised. "It doesn't have to be logical," she pointed out, "it only has to be legal, and since the King has already signed it and probably initialed the change, it's legal. And me?"
"You're supposed to be the mysterious female who freed the attacker the Deliambren caught." Father Ruthvere sighed and shook his head. "I haven't a clue how they're managing to get past the fact that you'd have had to be two places at the same time_"
"If they have their way, it would never get to a trial where they'd have to produce proof," she pointed out bitterly, feeling a surge of anger at High King Theovere, who had probably just signed the warrants without ever reading them once he was told what they were_vaguely_about. "When criminals can escape from locked dungeons or walk away legally, it doesn't take any stretch of the imagination to see that two more 'criminals' could be murdered during an 'escape attempt.' And we don't have any friends in high places or awkward relatives who might ask questions."
T'fyrr drooped despondently. "I had hoped that we had awakened Theovere to his sense of duty enough so that things like this, at least, could not happen. I thought he_"
She took his arm, hoping to give him comfort. To have gone through all he had, only to be hit with more bad news, seemed grossly unfair.
"Never mind," Father Ruthvere said firmly. "You have sanctuary here, for as long as you like, and no one can pry you out of it since the Bishop is behind you. You can stay until you're stronger, or your feathers have grown back, and fly out."
"But what about Nightingale?" T'fyrr asked instantly.
She actually had an answer to that one, although she wouldn't bring it up in front of Father Ruthvere. Well, an Elf who can appear in my room and disappear as well, can certainly manage to take me with him. She knew how he was doing it, of course; opening up Doors into Underhill wherever he chose. It took a tremendous amount of magical power, but_
But they might do it, just to tweak the noses of the human leaders and prove that the human mages are no match for them.
"I can find a way to safety, love, trust me," she said, and patted his arm reassuringly. "I found you, didn't I?"
T'fyrr still looked stricken, and she felt his despair enveloping him like a great black net. She tried to think of something, anything, to say_and swayed with sudden exhaustion, catching herself with one hand on a pillar just before she fell.
Father Ruthvere took over, his expression mirroring his relief at having something immediate he could do. "Never mind all that now," he said soothingly. "Tomorrow everything may change. Before anything can happen, you both need to rest, recover your strength." He made shooing motions with his hands in the direction of the belltower. "Go!" he said. "The Bishop will be sending his own guards to make sure you aren't taken from sanctuary by force. You won't need to stay awake to avoid arrest. All you need to do is get your strength back."
Nightingale sighed with relief and let down her guard. Weariness came over her then, so potent it left her dizzy.
Fortunately they were not supposed to go up to the top of the belltower_for one thing, when the bells rang they would have risked deafness or even death up there. No, there was a well-insulated tiring room at the base of the tower that they would be living in for the next few days at the very least. It had a staircase that led directly up to the top of the tower, so that once T'fyrr grew his feathers back_a matter of two or three weeks, at a guess_he would have free access to one of the better take-off points in this district. If he had to fly out, and he left at night, no one would ever know.
The two of them staggered into the tiring room to find that Father Ruthvere had been there before them, laying out bedding, wash water and a basin, even food. One set of bedding.
But by the time they reached the doorway, they were so tired that all they cared about was the bedding. They literally collapsed into it, Nightingale only a fraction of a heartbeat behind T'fyrr, and curled up together in a comforting tangle of limbs. She pulled the blankets up over them both, as much to hide the sad state of his feathers as for warmth.
He was asleep first; she listened to his regular breathing and allowed herself to weep, very quietly, with relief and joy. Not many tears, but enough that she had to wipe her face with a corner of a blanket before she was through. That released the last of her tension; she had only two thoughts before slumber caught her.
We are as surely in prison here as in the gaol. We cannot leave without being taken by our enemies. We have been caged at last.
It doesn't matter as long as we are together.